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Tuesday, July 1, 2014

The Overkilled

The Overkilled. No one likes that term, but it has stuck as a general descriptor for those unfortunates cursed with unlife after being struck by an Annihilator beam. They are a constant danger for those exploring space hulks, abandoned bases, and ruined cities recently devastated by war. Wherever there is one of the Overkilled, there are undoubtedly many, many more.

Fury and relentlessness personified, the Overkilled thirst for the flesh of the living. Some have speculated that the Annihilator animates the Overkilled by activating latent infections by nanites or prions. Their bodies undergo a number of changes including a general weakening of the integrity of their integument, and a diamond-sharp hardening of teeth and nails.

The Overkilled bite, gobble, claw, and tear at the flesh of their victims, as if consumed with hunger. But very little flesh and blood makes it down their gullets. Indeed, it often seems like more matter is leaving their bodies than getting in: foul black and green ichors pour from their mouth and nostrils, and from suppurating pustules on their chest, face, and extremities. This ichor contaminates their garments and the spaces around them - it is the surest sign that the Overkilled may be nearby.

The Overkilled are almost impossible to detect using sensors. Indeed, without the presence of living flesh to prey upon they are almost entirely quiescent. Are they conscious? Do they have memories or will? Who knows. The Nexialists claim that the Overkilled are a product of "supercivilization" - which says everything and explains nothing.

The R.U.R. contend that the Overkilled are an infinitesimal of the great Anti-Consciousness lurking in the galactic core. They say they have seen this contagion before, many times. It's a sign of things to come.

About Me

Last and First Men

"In your day you have learnt to calculate something of the magnitudes of space and time. But to grasp my theme in its true proportions, it is necessary to do more than calculate. It is necessary to brood upon these magnitudes, to draw out the mind toward them, to feel the littleness of your here and now, and of the moment of civilization you call history." - Olaf Stapledon